To Sleep
by suessepup
Summary: It's been a month and no sign of England. When Japan finds something grave at England's house, he asks for help from America and France to fix things for it seems the Briton has become lost on a playing field they've never been on and never dared to enter
1. Chapter 1

"To sleep, perchance to dream-  
ay, there's the rub."

- Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)

* * *

"Burn it to the ground!" a man cried out. "Burn the savages alive be it children or men!" A roar of cheers followed the orders. Torches were lit long ago but only recently were used for far worse than lighting the way.

"Damn it! You can't do this! Ikke alle af dem hjalp!" another man cried from the back of the group of armed men. He pushed his way desperately to the front. It was far too late by the time he reached his destination. Anything flammable was already engulfed in the crimson flames. The light teased the stones as the wood of the building cried and cracked as it gave into the flames' tricks.

"Go to hell barbaric viking!" men hissedat the wild, blond haired man as he swung his axeat those who dream near. His blue eyes were glazed with pain and hatred.

"You call me barbaric, you gamble stodder? What do you call this?" the man shouted. "Jeglslaar dig ihjel!"

A man in the front lines grabbed his head as his legs gave out. He cried in agony. "Fuck! Why do I return to my mistakes and bloodshed!" he sobbed but no one noticed him. They didn't even bat an eye as he fell. They merely went on yelling and fight with the Dane.

"Hold kaeft! There are women and children in there, noevhul! Are you telling me they helped?"

"We're done with you raids!" men cried in response.

"Jeg er pissed lig eglad!"

"Go home and leave our shores alone! We've lost enough because of you and this is your doing."

"Stop this! Please god!" the man on the ground cried. His enchanting green eyes watered as he tried to grab at the clothes of men round him. It was hopeless. His hand could not stop them; his words could not reach them. He retreated backward and watched as the blessed ground went up in flames.

"Time's running out! Come along, come along!" a small voice called out to the man on the ground who couldn't take his eyes off the building. Pleads escaped the fire and the terrified young faces appeared in the windows. It was awful. Words couldn't describe it. "Take your eyes off of it!"

"I..."

"Time's running out! Come along mister! Come along!" the voice sang and ordered as the man was tugged gently to his feet. "Hurry! Hurry!" Still, he could not find the effort to avert his eyes from the scene. The massacre of so many engraved itself into his mind, into his eyes. How could he escape? He would just be greeted with more of his misfortune. Yet, he was pulled along, away from the scene.

"Please..."

* * *

"M-Mr. America, M-Mr. France, please excuse my intrusion but I'm not sure else to discuss this with," the nervous Japanese man said as he fumbled with the key to the door. It had not been long since he found its hiding place. Certainly knowing the owner of it, as much as he did helped in the small key's discovery, that and the owner wasn't much taller than him so height was not a problem.

"Don't worry yourself so much, mon ami. From the expression on your face, it looks urgent," Francis said, excusing the Japanese man from any sort of fault in the matter. Honestly, how could he say no when Japan had come so frantically to him and America after the meeting? The poor nation looked ready to faint as he told them the news.

"So what's up, Kiku?" Alfred asked. The younger nation showed the least amount of concern. He had followed willingly with curiosity and not worries on his face.

"W-well, you know how he hasn't shown up to meetings for the last month, right?" Kiku asked. Both nodded as they stepped inside. "I c-came personally to see if he was alright. Y-you can guess what I found…"

"What's so strange about an empty house?" Alfred blurted out. The house was indeed empty. It looked like the guardian of it had simply gotten up and left. A tray with a teapot and a teacup rested on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. The ruminants of a log were left forgotten in the fireplace along with the still opened spanComplete Collection of Shakespeare/span on the cushion of the armchair.

"It is a surprise to find he hasn't finished reading Hamlet this time," Francis observed as he lifted the delicate book from its ghastly spot. "And he usually takes such good care of his precious livre."

"Y-yes, and there's dust everywhere. He hasn't been here for awhile from the looks of it," Kiku commented.

"It's not like Angleterre to leave his house is such a mess either."

"So what's this all about? I'm confused. Isn't Iggy always a mess?" Alfred asked. The two other nations exchanged a look and heaved a sigh at the American's blank face. Next time, they must remember to take someone with them that could show they understood the clues.

"N-no, Mr. America, he isn't usually like this. I've been to his house on several occasions and there's not a spot of dust or a thing left out when I venture over," Kiku explained. He gestured the two to continue to follow him. The Japanese man led them further into the house. Though the Briton's house was small on the outside, it concealed a lower level, a basement. Down a flight of stairs, the trio was faced with walnut door. The door itself looked burnt and suffered years of wear and tear. The hinges that attached it to the house contrasted with the old door; they were fresh. It couldn't have been more than a month since they were installed; yet the house appeared as if no work had been done anytime during the last cycle of the moon.

"Hey, what's this? Is this Iggy's drawings?" Alfred asked, running his finger along some of the carvings in the walnut.

"That's Latin. Leave to Angleterre to keep up with a dead language," Francis replied, though even he still remembered how to read, write, and speak the language.

"Why is it on the door though?" His answer awaited him on the other side of the door. Kiku pushed the door open tenderly as the American spoke his question. Inside, the lighting was awful. No electricity ran to the lower level of the house so only small candles that sat in specific locations could reveal the room's contents. The furthest back wall had a single shelf attached to the bricks with a candle on both ends. Stacked neatly in the center of the shelf were several books over every size and shape, new and old. Two more candles - the wax was on the last hour's worth - stood high on metal poles near the bookcase. One pole had fallen over at an unknown time to the trio. They were not observing the poor lighting in the room nor were they looking at the rare collection of books but rather the corpse in the middle of the room.

A deathly pale body rested in the center of a hand drawn, chalk and wax circle. The cold stone on the floor was burnt around the body but there was no evidence of a fire on the body itself. "Mon dieu, qu'est-ce a fait?" Francis muttered in grave astonishment.

"I…I found him like this, this morning when I arrived before our meeting," Kiku explained, allowing the two to examine the corpse.

"He's not dead at least," Francis said. "There's a faint heart beat and he is still breathing."

"How did this happen?" Alfred asked as he poked the Briton's cheek out of habit. The body was cold and only the forest green cloak seemed to keep the body from freezing while the mind and health dwindled. The two carefully turned the body over to find it was still clinging tight to an old spell book.

"He was playing with his magic again. Oh Angleterre…"

"I…I think he…went somewhere in his mind. This candle caught fire to our means of waking h-him up though," Kiku announced to the two. He was knelt over the fallen candle stand and the ashes of a book. His hands were black from digging through the residue but he had pulled out the destroyed spell book, the twin of the one England clung to.

"What are we suppose to do? A hero can't just leave him like this!" Alfred proclaimed.

"I…I looked at the book h-he is hold, and well, we can still get into his mind l-like he did," Kiku explained. "There are risks."

"What are they?" Francis inquired.

"Well, I don't know how much Arthur's mind can hold. All of us going into his subconscious mind might harm it severely and there's a possibility that he may not even recall how to escape the depths of his mind, meaning we'll be stuck in there as well."

"Well…it's our only option, so I say we should go for it!" Alfred said. Francis nodded in agreement. It was their only choice and the Frenchman had to agree – there was no way he would leave his long-time foe like this. He wouldn't wish anyone to be confined to their own mind.

* * *

Well, this idea originally came from LifeInABox66's fanfiction FreeFall. I really liked the idea of an adventure not in reality but in the mind so with words of encouragement, I started writing this. It will be different, I promise. I planned to tell a different story but through the same means. I hope you do enjoy it. Let me know what you think too (and I'll keep up with my other stories, I swear).

P.S. I haven't read Hamlet yet but the quote seems to fit, not to mention England was reading Hamlet earlier in the story.

Please Review my story and tell me what you think. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

_So times were pleasant for the people there_  
_ until finally one, a fiend out of hell,_  
_ began to work his evil in the world._

Beowulf (99-101)

* * *

"Stand still, now and please be sure not to let go of your neighbor's hand, otherwise I have no control of what happens to you," Kiku warned before glancing down at the book that rested on still unconscious British man. Arthur had not moved a muscle since they arrived and even when they used him as a book rest, he still did not move. The shallow breathing was the only sign of life in him, even that was a poor sign to follow.

"How is this supposed to work anyway?" Alfred asked as he glanced around. He couldn't back down to help someone in need but there was slight concern in his curios face. Only Kiku noticed it as the American lifted his arm to adjust his glasses before they started.

"I…I'm not entirely sure," Kiku admitted. "I read the spell over but we'll have to hope this spell is for the novice."

"That is very reassuring," Francis commented, "but shall we get this over with?"

Kiku nodded before glancing down at the book once more. "_Transporto nostrum animus applico of preteritus quod terra of mens._"

Everyone closed their eyes, waiting for the world to change. It was stereotypical for the world to flash before them as they dove into the mind that was not theirs but England's. So why not be prepared for that blinding light and transition? Alfred had immediately clamped onto his neighbor's hands when Kiku started to speak. After a minute passed…

"A-Alfred, loosen your grip will you? You're going to stop the blood flow to my fingers with your death grip," Francis hissed as he pried his hand free from America. He had opened his eyes first to find… Nothing had changed. They were still in the cold, dreary room they had found England in. The only thing different was not he had claw marks from a certain American

"Wait; aren't we supposed to be somewhere else?" Alfred finally blurted out, ignoring the Frenchman rub his hand. "We should be somewhere like forest or a wasteland with melting pocket watches."

"That's 'Persistence of Memory', America," Francis replied with a sigh. Even if it was not his painter that drew it, Francis knew art. The American did not quite understand the talents of an artist that could express such things in that manner and made him weep.

"Yeah, whatever, so why are we still here?"

"I…I don't know…It should have worked…" Kiku muttered as he released his grip from his fellow nations and went to pick up the book. "Wait, what happened to England? He's not here."

"What do you mean? Iggy was unconscious, wasn't he?" Alfred asked.

"Oius, he was and is," Francis replied before walking slowly to the door of the room. Nothing had changed except they were short a Briton. Arthur couldn't have just disappeared. No, that was impossible without them knowing. He was unconscious and in no condition to get up and walk out the door. "The door!" Out of impulse, Francis pulled the door of the cellar open and found that their stereotype was missed merely by a room.

"It looks like a stage," Kiku observed as he moved – followed by Alfred and Francis – to the next room. A stage that held their door in the center of it stood awkwardly in the middle of a forest. Behind the trio was no a curtain but more tree. In front of them trees. There wasn't even a clearing for the wooden, modern stage. It was simply…there…

"He always thought all the world was a stage," Francis said with a grin at the obscure reference. England had loved the writer dearly and still cherished the work of the dead play writer and poet. "But where is he if this is his mind?"

"Mind is a vague term to use here," a quiet voice commented. It belonged to none of the nations present and no one presented themselves in the "audience." The owner of the voice, though small, came to hit America in the face, literally. A small fairy with golden hair hit the American right above his nose. The poor thing stumbled backward and if Kiku had not caught it, it would have fallen a great distance downward.

"I apologize for running into you sir," the small humanoid creature said, bowing to America who was still dazed. "We felt your presence earlier and we split up to find the foreign psyche. I am pleased to see everyone is well and in one piece from your journey."

"T-Thank you, but where are we and what do you mean 'mind is a vague term to use'?" Kiku asked as he raised the creature to eye level. Francis drew closer to hear the fairy speak. He had only seen pictures of the mythical people and had doubt they were real. Well, then again, what was real in the realms of the mind?

"When," the fairy corrected. "There is no 'where' here. You are not taking a journey I assume so you are not going places. You are merely…floating as if on a sea."

"We're not floating! I can feel the ground!" Alfred declared. He demonstrated the concept by jumping several times on the stone platform. He did not slowly fall or even relax as if on a sofa. Instead he fell quite harshly and hastily onto the cold stone.

"You're not floating on water or air. If you would kindly listen, I'll be more than happy to explain. You see, you're not floating on air or water – physical things have no meaning here. You, kind sir, are floating on memories."

"Memories?"

"Yes and if you would be so kind to follow one simple rule for your stay as to leave your host's mind unscathed and yourself in perfect condition," the fairy said with another small bow.

"What would that be?" Francis inquired.

"Please do not say your host's name. That is all we ask from you."

"Why not?" Alfred asked.

"It… There is no reason behind it that you could find. It is merely a rule to follow or else things will slip from our control. When things do slip, you will be entirely on your own even if your host is with you. Trust me; it is better if you do not speak His name."

"I see," Kiku responded as he carefully set the fairy on a leaf nearby. "We will be wise to follow your demand but do you happen to know where our host is." In response, the fairy pointed a small, delicate finger northward (if it could be called north here). A small tribe of people were moving up the hill in the distance. A small boy with straw blond hair followed the group, holding a large wooden spear with his head high. A god-like woman led the group up the hill and the boy stayed on her tail.

"When is the next fight?" he asked eagerly as he tugged on her dress. Francis glanced surprised at the fairy. He opened his mouth but closed it again; reminding him of the one rule they had to follow. The others looked just as confused. They didn't speak as the tribe moved on.

"Patience," the woman said. "Let us harvest first. There is food to be had before you go back to war."

"Yes, you are all too eager to fight aren't you?" one of the war-worn men said as he ruffled the young nation's hair. In response, the boy batted away the man's hand and pouted at him. He wasn't a kid in his opinion. He had on many battles. When would they stop thinking of him as a child again?

"We'll see our enemies soon."

"What is going on?" Alfred asked at last. Reluctantly, the two diverted their eyes from the scene of war-ready men. Alfred seemed to always need a bit of a push to understand such deeper matters as this.

Kiku cleared his throat to answer but Francis cut him off. He put up a hand to stop him before he spoke. He had known the Briton the longest. "It's E… when he is younger. He was ever so eager for war back then. I am guessing…" Francis glanced at the fairy who nodded at him to continue. "…the tribes of people now are the Celts."

Alfred cocked his head, still confused.

"Mr. A-America, we are early in his memories, much before your time or before I met him," Kiku summarized. This seemed to help the American understand more. Francis wished he had the summarized version of England's history for the boy. It was obvious Alfred hadn't read a real book in awhile.

"Will he respond to us?" Francis asked the fairy that sat on Kiku's shoulder. He pointed to the boy that was wandering up the hill with the rest of the men. The woman still struck strange for Francis but it was England's past, not his. How should he know what is right if he was not there?

"Yes, if you address him directly," the fairy answered.

"Guess that means we must catch up with him then," Francis said with a sigh.

"First one to Iggy is a rotten egg!" Alfred shouted as he bolted after the kid. Francis took a step before he realized what Alfred did. The men swirled around and pointed their weapons at the charging American. The fairy glanced at the nations before disappearing quickly.

"Did you not listen America?" Francis shouted as Kiku and he hurried to stop Alfred. They were all met with razor-sharp spears. The young boy was nothing but a shadow now among them. A large white smile reached one pitch-black ear to the other as he moved forward through the crowd and took a hold of one man's spear.

"You morons finally got here. A magician such as myself would have been here within second instead of waiting until after a bloody meeting," the Briton spoke. The voice was not fully Arthur's. Three voices clashed to make one: a child's voice, England's voice, and a darker voice.

"A-Angleterre, is that you?" Francis whimpered as a spear drew closer to his throat.

"Of course, it is frog. Whose mind do you think you're in? If it was yours, my eyes would be bleeding by now or we'd all be naked, don't you think? No, you're in my mind. As if I need you in here though," the Briton spat.

"Then why were you unconscious on the ground in your house?" Alfred shouted out. He winced as he felt his skin open up and the spear run into his shoulder's muscles. The small shadow of England bent down to catch a drop of Alfred's blood.

"No worries. I'm too great, too powerful to let you die in here. I don't want your corpses in my mind anyhow," he said. "And why? Do you think I did not mean for that to happen? I would never let that happen." Finally, the childish silhouette turned to the group and left the three with spears at their necks.

"What should we do with them?" one Celtic soldier asked before England disappeared.

"It does not matter. I would deal with them myself but it is a waste for me. I advise you to get rid of them otherwise they may trick you into thinking _I_ am the one that requires help." With a wave of his hand, the England they had been looking for left them.

"W-what now?" Alfred asked as he backed up as the men drew nearer.

"I think we should take a page from M-Mr. France's book and retreat," Kiku suggested, though it pained him to do so. It was impossible for him to die here but it was fruitless for him to go forth. Two nods confirmed the idea before the three bolted in the other direction. Alfred would later state he did so heroically but with spears and warriors on their tails, it would have to wait to much later to be said.

* * *

**So the first thought of a dream world was The Persistence of Memory for some reason. I didn't know the name of it at first but loved how this worked out when I did found out the title. I added the quote in later. Originally I had Anglo-Saxon period as the first to do but my friend told me to do the Celtics so I did. Even you have some suggestions for some classic British Literature, let me know. I like putting the quotes in the beginning. **

**PS: Don't try writing fanfics with a million Englands crawling up and down your computer screen. Much too distracting. **

**Once again, please leave your reviews. Thank you for those who did.**


	3. Chapter 3

"He that is proud eats up himself: pride is  
his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle."

_Troilus and Cressida_ 2.3.152-4, Agamemnon to Ajax

* * *

The earth changed so quickly from its tranquil state to that of a hectic, mad one. The trio stumbled on the rocks that protruded from the once forest ground. The sky was a swirling mixture of orange and blue now. The terrain was rough enough to cause problems for any fast paced exercise unfortunately. Even the war-worn soldiers, spears in hand, fought with it. The region could not decide if it was a friend or a foe.

"Mon Dieu, what did you do America?" Francis asked as they dove into a cave nearby. It was fascination, if they weren't running for their lives, how fragile the world was. A simple slip of the tongue had sent it plummeting into chaos.

"I didn't do anything," Alfred defended as he watched their enemies pass them by like a children's cartoon villain. He slid down the rocky wall and took his bomber jacket off after his butt made contact with the cold soil beneath them. "What is going on?"

"Chaos, you threw things out of order," Francis replied casually as he too relaxed against the cave wall. It was unbearably hot now or it was getting there.

"By just saying his name? He can't be that weak."

"Non, I don't think he is but you have to consider he's not use to anyone but himself here. If he is already weakened, we'll sure make it far worse for him," Francis explained to the American. He pulled a ribbon from his pocket to tie up his long blond hair. Meanwhile, Kiku moved to the entrance. Outside, ash started to mix with the orange and blue sky. The lava was a bright golden color instead of the typical red. Other than the moan of the awaken volcano in the area, it was silent.

"Do you think they're gone?" Alfred asked as Kiku turned around and came back to join the two.

"Yes, it appears to be so. Clearly they aren't as smart as we expected them to be. We're safe for now," Kiku answered before resting against the wall. He didn't sit like the others that would lower his guard far too much in the situation they were in. Barely ten minutes in and England was already trying to kill them. "The lava is gold…"

"Gold?" Francis muttered. "He's really out doing himself."

"What should we do now?" Alfred inquired as he stood up. They weren't going to get anywhere by hiding in this cave. It wasn't like the real world. It was possible to wait. The unknown was the only constant here, even time stepped aside for it.

A screech echoed through the cave and caused the trio to bolt to their feet within seconds of hearing it. It was a high pitch noise and vaguely reminded them of a bird, a distressed one if that. A black feathered creature blocked the precious light for the cave. With its beak held high and its wings tucked elegantly to its side, the pair of orange eyes glared at them. The front feet stamped in annoyance and the back feet held firm to the rocky surface. The three were remarkably startled that it took a great while for them to realize what was requested of them. The griffon's rectangular body waited for them too.

"Does it…" Francis choked on his words, unable to finish them.

"Well, are you coming" a high, girlish voice questioned them. "I'm not waiting all eternity for you!"

"It that a fairy?" Alfred blurted out. And there, on the griffon's head, sat a small winged, humanoid creature. It was draped in an orange dress and held tightly to the creature's scalp.

"It is Mr. America," Kiku answered, surprised as well.

"You have a lot to fix! You better get moving! Come along!" it demanded. The three looked at one another and then to the fairy, then back at each other.

"Heroes first, mon ami," Francis insisted.

Alfred stood in his place before slowly moving forward. He looked at his guide and then to the griffon. Why did the fairy seem sure of the brute beast? With the sharp talons and beak, it could easily rip Alfred apart. Then… what would become of him then? His physical body would not be harmed, wouldn't it? Could he die in this realm of recollection and memory? So many questions, yet all he had as an answer was a black feathered griffin. He sighed as he bowed low to the beast and gently climbed upon its back.

He was safe.

"Will you hurry up?" the fairy complained.

"Oius, we're coming," Francis answered when he noticed Alfred had successfully situated himself on the legendary beast. "Shall we?" he directed his questioned at Kiku who nodded in reply. Both bowed much like Alfred to the beast and then followed up on mounting it.

"There was no need to bow," the fairy retorted and quickly instructed the griffon. Then they were in the air. Feathers drifted downward from behind them in the sky. The wind threatened to knock them off on several occasions but all held tight. How the fairy sat perfectly still with no discomfort… Only England knew. Regardless, they reached the destination within seconds. A castle, which walls went on forever, non-stop, stood atop of a hill. It went on infinitely and was dramatically out of place.

"He always loved his castles," Francis chuckled as he climbed down from the griffon. Kiku and Alfred soon followed him in that order.

"How are you still here?" a British voice growled. He stood in front of the bridge, holding the best sword in all of Europe. A tainted orange glow escaped the sword when it was placed in front of the shadowed figure of a much older England. This one appeared as a knight but his face was covered and his armor was worn to rust.

"You can't get rid of us that easily, mon cher," Francis replied. He smiled even if it soon faded at Arthur's choice of weapon.

"Don't kill them!" the fairy cried as she fluttered around Arthur's head.

"Get!" he demanded and he swatted it away. This finally gave them the chance they were looking for and the jumped at it.

It was not hard to seduce Arthur when his sword was knocked from his grip. Francis pinned the Briton down without much help. They disregarded the man's thrashing and yelling, trying to prevent him doing any harm to either his restrainer or himself.

"Insignificant districts! Release me! I don't want your filth touching me! The Empire will not stand for this!" Arthur declared as he struggled to get from. Even in his own consciousness, he was physically not the strongest nation, or maybe that's where he was the weakest.

"Mon cher, will you calm down? It is for your own good," Francis replied, wincing as he was kicked in the guy.

"Please forgive up for intruding," Kiku spoke nervously.

"No! Get off of me! I will have your heads! Off with their heads!" the shadowed, battle-worn knight declared. He acted more like a mad king than a loyal knight. He thrashed about still and threatened the trio holding him down and in return, they struggled to bring him back to his old self. If time existed in the unconscious mind, in memory, then five minutes might have passed before they were greeted with seven skeleton knights. Their hands were swords and their rib cages consisted of bone and metal to create a breast plate. They wore no helmets to guard their bone-hard skulls. There was no need to guard it. Instead, an orange tainted metal filled their eye sockets. A small squared was imprinted into their skulls. Petrified and surprised, only Francis managed to hold his grip. It was barely enough to seduce the mad Briton.

"Angleterre," Francis mumbled. "How did you end up here… like this?" The seven soldiers drew nearer to Kiku and Alfred who blocked them from their master but their sword-arms quickly rose to the two's heads.

"D-dude, they're getting closer," Alfred declared as he attempted to stand his ground.

"I know America but what do you propse we do?" Francis replied. A line had formed in front of them now from their enemies.

"This isn't the physical and logical world, so you should try to think outside of the box," Kiku suggested. They had seen the world fall apart in a blink of an eye. It was logical that there was no logic.

"That might be true, so what?" Alfred asked as he felt the sword come closer to his vital organs.

Francis smirked and spun around to face Arthur and not their malice enemies. He leaned closer to Arthur's face with the full intention to pull his face guard back, with the full intention to allow their breaths to mix if only for a chance. When he did, a pair of orange eyes glared up at him as a quiet breeze blew between the duos. "Angleterre, you can't honestly be in denial up here," he coed. The romantic scene was scattered when Alfred, no longer able to hold his position without further damage coming to him, stumbled backward. In return, Francis fell forward onto Arthur; his right hand pressed against the other man's chest to catch himself.

The action stirred much more surprise than expected. The knight yelped in pain and grabbed his chest, ripping the chest guard off. His orange eyes turned green immediately and less of a murderous intent appeared in them. They all caught it but their enemies, forgotten for the moment, where still behind them, and well prepared to defend their master.


	4. Chapter 4

"And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,  
Which, hatch'd, would as his kind grow mischievous,  
And kill him in the shell"

Julius Caesar Act 2, scene 1, 33-34

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"Non."

"How about now?"

"Non."

"Now?"

"Non."

"Now?"

"I swear, if you ask one more time, Amérique, je va te tuer!" Francis shouted as he stopped dead in his tracks, swirling around to look the American behind in the eyes. Francis' blue glare irritably stared Alfred down. His scratched up fists were clenched and ready to start a fight he would most likely regret later on.

Luckily, Kiku was prepared to step in. He quickly took up a position between the two. "Let's not fight you too. We still have no idea where we are going? Save it until we need it. We're bond to meet up with something like earlier."

"Yeah, calm down dude. I just was asking we've been walking forever!" Alfred complained as they continued their stroll through the old-fashioned city. Despite the fact that it was a very industrial city and not a green surface in sight, not a single person was out on the streets in the dusk of the day. The sun was licking the tops of the stone buildings as it passed behind cloud after cloud. The houses were dark around them and only now and then, little beading eyes peeked out behind locked windows or they saw movement out of the corner of their eyes. The town was cloaked in a sense of forewarning. It was the only reason Alfred wasn't marching in the front like usual.

"It's possible we could be. Time is nonexistent here," Kiku stated to no one in particular.

"How long are we going to be walking? I'm tired and hungry and I doubt he's got any hamburgers or edible food up here," Alfred whined.

"I told you last time, we don't know. It's mostly likely to be awhile, America. Where is that fée anyway? I thought it was suppose to guide us," Francis sighed as he slowed his pace to look up at one of the English churches. There hadn't been much this size on their walk. What had caught his sight was the young woman on the top of the steps, pleading with the priest's head that was poked out of the church door. Her face was covered in freshly wept tears as she pleaded with the man.

"We were just lucky it came to aid us earlier, France. I don't know if we succeeded our welcome from what we've down so far," Kiku said before catching where Francis was looking. He stepped forward and covered his eyes from the sunlight to get a better look. "So do you think it is from then?"

"From when? Come on guys, fill me in? What's the beef?" Alfred asked as he was completely missed when they were in the Briton's mind.

"Just listen, America. If you know anything, you'll figure it out," Francis said and pointed up at the woman.

"Please Father, you must know some way to help him! I'll do anything! Just look at him at least!" she begged.

"I'm sorry my child but I cannot. Pray to the Lord for help."

"But Father!"

"I am sorry. It is out of my hands. If I could help all of the God's children that have been taken by the devil's disease, then I would but it is out of my hands. Peace be with you child."

The trio watched as the priest stepped back inside. They spotted the straw colored hair and the green eyes for just an instance. Those bushy eyebrows made the man even more obvious, especially after the gentle, pleading eyes were placed on the onlookers before the doors were shut.

"I still don't know what's going on but was that him?" Alfred blurted out. The two other nations looked at him and then at each other. It was indeed the Briton they were searching for. Alfred took his place in front as they quickly hurried up the stairs. By the time they reached it, the doors where shut and they were alone on the steps. Alfred tried to pull the doors open while shouting loudly to be let in.

"Japan, why don't we check for another entrance while America tries to get in from here?" Francis suggested.

"Hai that might be smart, France. I'll take the south side and you'll take the north side then?"

"Oui that is fine with me. Give me a shout if you find anything. Hopefully Mr. Oblivious will realize what is going on."

"There has to be a way in. Let me know if you find something as well France," Kiku said with a nod before he turned to face the alleyway he was assigned too. He left without a word to the American who was hopelessly banging on the door and shouting at the residence inside. When he walked down the steps and stood at the entrance of the dim path, he regretted choosing this one. Rats scurried along the any flat surface, even the vertical ones, which in no way made sense. Little red, beading eyes poked out of the darkness threatening, ready for some kind of food to enter to its death. Kiku inhaled and exhaled deeply before walking to it, reminding himself that this was only a figment of Arthur's mind and merely his version of a firewall to what he was protecting inside the church.

Meanwhile, Francis faced a scene just as distasteful and nauseating as the Japanese man's view. Forgotten, forsaken, and downright miserable: bodies lined the edge of his path. Some were not even dead yet. The French man could hear their pleads and begs as they attempted to snatch at his clothes. He barely could walk five steps down his path without the dying and sickly clinging to him. "Why is he so afraid to let us in?" he mumbled as he kicked an aged hand off of his pant leg.

"France, Japan, come here!" Alfred's cried broke the rat and dying infested alleyways. "Dude, I can see someone! There are two people here!"

It was not long before the two who had gone to investigate, glad to get out of their piece of hell, and were back on the holy steps of the church next to the American. Alfred had left his spot at the door, having decided that if England wanted them in, he would have let them in already, and moved to the window. The window was nearly impossible to see through. A few gaps here and there allowed for the trio to see the two figures Alfred had wanted them to see. They could only see them knelt down at the front of the church, muttering a pray. The figures appeared as twins. Both resembled the British man they had been seeking for so long.

"Please, let us in! I know you can hear me!" Alfred shouted once more. Neither heads turned or flinched at the man's shouts. They didn't even register that they had guests. "Dude, this isn't funny! We came for a reason Ar-"

"They're not going to let you in. I am sorry. Is there anything I can help you with?" another voice asked them. The trio swiftly spun around upon hearing the spokesperson. They all knew that voice. A calm tone made the three confused at first. No, it was rare to hear such fragileness to this voice. Usually it was loud and firm, prepared to step up to a battle but now… It sounded like it was ready to break if touched. Yet, it was the British man's voice, a few years younger, but his voice nonetheless. The advocator too took on the appearance of a much younger version of Arthur. He wad decked out in a long, dark colored gown. He held a basket of ashes and dirt in his hands as he looked up at the men.

"Are you…"

"We're looking for someone that we believe is in there," Francis quickly said, not wanting to end up in the pain from before or running from his life.

"Who may that be if I may ask?" the projection of England inquired.

"We can't… um… say exactly you see but him really well but he won't answer the door or let us in."

"You know him well? I doubt that but they're not likely to let you in. The plague has gotten worse and even Father has gotten sick. They fear if people find out they may go into an even worse panic."

"Is that so? Why are you telling us this, cher?"

"Who are you looking for again?"

"Please excuse him but is there anyway in there?" Kiku interrupted. There were holes within the man's mind but even his projections didn't want to admit it. Facing a weakness like that was hard for anyone and knowing you weren't sane, you weren't whole made it even worse.

"There is a way in. Please follow me," the projection responded before stepping toward the steps and walking straight through them as if he was a ghost.

* * *

**Sorry for not keeping up to-date on my stories. **

**Several snow/ice days and school don't make for an easy schedule to keep, plus I've never been good at keepinga writing schedule. **

**M****aybe I should though...**

**Regardless, I hope you like it and leave your reviews. Please do! You can cure the plague with it! (Not really but wouldn't that be great)**


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